Reminder
by blondieland
Summary: Contrary to popular belief, she can break him too. Jane/Lisbon.


**Reminder **

_**Disclaimer:**__I don't own The Mentalist or their characters. Just borrowing them for a while ;)_

_**Fandom: **__The Mentalist_

_**Pairing: **__Jane/Lisbon_

_**Summary: **__Contrary to popular belief, she can break him too. (Jane/Lisbon)_

_**A/N: **__Okay, new story finally. You can thank Yana, for being always so supportive and motivating me to write more. You're awesome (: _

_Angstangstangst. I really enjoyed writing Jane's side this time, and playing a bit with their weird screwed up relationship. Tell me what you think please! _

**EDIT: **There was a problem and I couldn't see the story in the Mentalist section, so I have now reuploaded it. Thanks to lysjelonken and yaba for reviewing! Sorry for the complications!

_

* * *

_

The whole team is in a bar, celebrating yet another closed case. Rigsby said they should go out, they hadn't in a while, and he knew a place nearby.

But, predictably, they're the only ones at the table; Van Pelt is dancing with some cute guy, Rigsby excused himself to the bathroom, and Cho is ordering another drink.

"Okay, that one."

"Oh, that's easy Lisbon. Divorced, bored with her life. Thought it'd be easier being single again, now she's searching for a nice one night stand after half a year without luck. No complications that way." she rolls her eyes, unimpressed, as she takes another sip of her tequila.

"There's no way you know that. Stop bluffing." he fakes offence and she gives him that one sided smile that he (_loves_) knows so much.

(And really, that wasn't his intention all along. Not at all.)

A piece of her hair is out of place, and he reaches out, puts it behind her ear. She looks up at him, surprise (and something else, he's _sure_) in her eyes.

He's the winner in their gaze contest, as she looks away, and quickly stands up.

"Woah, stop right there darling." his hands are on the small of her back, holding her in place. It seems she had a little more to drink than she should have. "Where do you think you are going?"

She looks him in the eye, and they're _way_ too close for comfort. He can count the freckles on her nose, the heat from her flushed cheeks taking over him.

And it's not his fault, you see? Because not matter how much he tries (and almost succeeds) to forget it, he _is_, in fact, still human.

* * *

He takes her hand on an impulse, and starts running towards the door.

She doesn't say anything, just runs along with him, until they're out of the bar.

(And it's raining, and dark, and so fucking _cliché_. Except not.)

"Look, Lisbon, I don't know why I did that, I'm so sor-"

"It's okay." she whispers, cutting him off.

She looks so fragile and small (and _untouchable_), and they're still holding hands.

He brings her hand to his mouth, and kisses each of his fingertips slowly, his eyes never leaving hers.

(His other hand drawing unknown patterns on her skin.)

In a moment, her back is on the nearest wall, both her hands in the back of his neck, pushing him towards her.

She tastes like closed case pizza, and strawberries, and alcohol and _sin_. Her skin burns under his hands, and he feels like taking her, right there, against that wall under the rain.

She softly pulls away from him, both her hands on his chest.

"What are we doing?" she whispers.

(And it's funny, you know? How she goes to him for answers, when he isn't sure if he knows how to breathe anymore.)

* * *

As soon as they get into her apartment, he takes her by the wrist and turns her around to him.

_("You sure about this?"_ Maybe he should have asked. But the list of things unsaid just goes on and on, and please tell me, really, who the fuck _cares_?)

He kisses her once again, as he starts to undress her, his mouth still glued to hers.

Her bedroom is suddenly way too far, and he pushes her against the kitchen table, as her trembling fingers fight to take his pants off.

He kisses down her neck to her collar bone, and her skin is all kinds of sweet (and why the _hell _did he wait so long?), he feels like he could go on forever.

But she's never been one for patience, so she pushes herself against him, forcing him (really?) to be inside her.

She comes first, and he follows her just by watching her let go.

And if he believed in magic and god and heaven, he could swear he's there right now.

(If it weren't for that soft, little, tiny, tingle of guilt pushing through his veins, this would be perfection.)

* * *

"You didn't have to this, Jane. It's okay, we were both responsible, you don't have to _apologize."_ it's the first thing she says when she sees the (amazing, wonderful, other good adjectives, ehem) breakfast he's made her.

And he'd be lying if he said he wasn't surprised. Even _he_ didn't see _that _one coming.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Lisbon. This is not an apology." she raises her right eyebrow, almost accusingly.

She doesn't believe him.

She r_eally_ thinks he regrets it.

And what's worse, she doesn't _care_.

(And you see, right there, the proof that: contrary to popular belief, she _can_ break _him_ too.)

"Stop it."

"Stop what?" he looks at her, daring her to see the hurt in his eyes. To feel it.

"_That_. That… _sad_ thing you got going on." she's biting her bottom lip, and she's so fucking _adorable,_ he just has to touch her.

(He needs to.)

He takes a step towards her, and lifts her chin up. She (fucking) flinches.

"Jane, I'm not so sure about this…"

"You were sure last night." he knows he shouldn't push her, that he's being cruel and she doesn't deserve it.

(But fuck it, he's hurt, alright? And the thing is, he thought he was _past_ this. Feelings and heart and hurt and pain and love, that's for normal people, who still have something to live for, who didn't lose it all.

And once again, she proves to be even more important than he thought she-_anyone_-could ever be.)

"I'm sorry, okay? I was drunk and vulnerable and well, you are _you_ after all." she's defensive now, and embarrassed. (And she's saying she's sorry. She's _sorry_.)

"I am me? What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Come on, you know I'm attracted to you." and it seems like she's (fucking!) kidding him, because now she is _blushing_. And god, he can't help it.

He kisses her softly, like he wants it to last forever. But before he pulls away, he bites her lower lip (the same spot she's been biting minutes ago.), and whispers against her ear.

"So you're attracted to me. Is that all? Just… attraction?"

"It hurts Jane, fuck." (her lip is bleeding, and he places a soft kiss there.)

"You didn't answer my question, Lisbon."

This time, _she_ kisses _him_; and really, all that just to avoid answering one simple question?

She pulls away, both breathing heavily. They hold yet another gazing contest, and he's sure she can see right through him, everything that's going on inside his head (heart).

"I don't love you, if that's what you're asking." she voices what he can't say, and for a moment he feels like his… that, stopped working.

(And that can't be true. You see, he insists, he doesn't _have_ a heart. It was murdered, just like his wife and daughter.

-beat-

_I don't love you._)

* * *

What amazes him the most about_ her_ is that, even when she ripped his heart apart, she managed to save him too.

(And how much ironic can it get?)

By hurting him, she gave him back his life. Sort of.

(_There_ _are some things that can't be fixed._)

You see, he wants her to love him now. Needs her to. And that's another reason to keep living.

(Because he now _feelsandhurtsandloves._ And that's okay. He's still human.)

_

* * *

by blondieland._


End file.
